Blood Brothers
by Christine M. Greenleaf
Summary: An alternative examination of the Joker's origins, and the actual relationship between him and Batman.
1. Chapter 1

**Blood Brothers**

"Mr. Wayne? What's your opinion on that, sir?"

Thomas Wayne was startled out his daydreaming by the question. He turned his attention away from the Gotham skyline to face the joint chairman of Wayne Enterprises, a man whose name he couldn't even remember right now, despite being joint head of the company with him.

"Uh…I think…it's a great idea," stammered Thomas, slowly, hoping it wasn't too obvious that he hadn't been paying attention. But his heart was never really in these board meetings. He didn't think it was natural for any man in his twenties to have a passion for meetings, and Thomas was no different from a lot of men in their twenties. His mind had been preoccupied instead with his ambitions in his medical career, and a couple of very attractive society women he had met at his latest party.

Thomas Wayne was a very lucky man, he would never deny that. He had inherited Wayne Enterprises when his father died, along with a vast fortune to run it and keep himself living an extremely comfortable existence. While his only real occupation should have been the running of Wayne Enterprises, Thomas had no head for business, preferring to leave the actual running of the company to people who were interested in that sort of thing, and pursuing his own passion for medicine. He had trained as a doctor, and opened a small, private practice, more of a hobby for him than a career though. When he wasn't busy in board meetings or indulging his medical interests, he lived the enviable life of a man about town – rich, respected, hosting parties and mingling with the elite of Gotham City. A fine life, with a good balance of work and pleasure. He was a very lucky man.

And his luck held out, for none of the men in the meeting seemed to realize he hadn't been paying attention. They nodded in agreement with him and his co-chairman said, "Then it's settled. Thank you all for coming today, gentlemen. Mr. Wayne and I will see you soon."

Thomas let out a sigh of relief and stood up, beating everyone else to the door. Alfred was waiting for him outside.

"How was the meeting, sir?" asked his faithful butler.

"Stayed awake through it," replied Thomas, smiling at him.

"An improvement on the last one then, sir," replied Alfred, dryly. "Splendid."

Thomas laughed, heading for the elevator. "Forgive me for troubling you with such a mundane matter, sir, but Mr. Kane has asked me to inform you that they've just appointed a new secretary," said Alfred as they descended.

"Kane, that's his name!" said Thomas, snapping his fingers. "I actually forgot in the meeting, Alfred, that's how boring it was. Why does he think I care who he's appointed?"

"I believe, sir, that as head of this company, at least in name, he would recommend making her brief acquaintance, if only to preserve the idea that you care about this business at all," retorted Alfred. "Besides, it's always good publicity to have a man of your station seeming to interact with even the lowliest of employees."

"Point," agreed Thomas. "Ok, where is she?"

"Just setting up her desk in reception, sir," said Alfred, holding open the elevator doors for him. "Right this way."

Thomas sighed, trudging over to the reception area. He saw a petite young woman, demurely dressed, unpacking some boxes and files, and headed over to her. "Name, Alfred?" he muttered.

"Napier, sir," replied Alfred. "Mrs. Mary Napier."

Thomas nodded. "Mrs. Napier?" he asked, leaning on the desk and smiling at her. She had been turned away, but suddenly looked up at him, and Thomas's breath caught in his throat.

He had never seen a more attractive young woman. The plainness and modesty of her dress only made her exceptional beauty even more stunning. It was fresh and natural, with no pretense to glamor and no art to make it appear more than it was – completely unlike all the women he was used to. Her wide, blue eyes, pretty and innocent, stared up at him, and she smiled nervously. "Yes?" she asked.

"Uh…hi," stammered Thomas, trying to regain his senses. "I'm…uh…Thomas Wayne."

Her face looked shocked, and a little afraid. "_The _Thomas Wayne?" she stammered. "Head of Wayne Enterprises?"

"Yeah, that's me," said Thomas, nodding. "But don't worry – I'm not as scary as everyone says," he added, smiling kindly at her. "Uh…just thought I'd take the opportunity to welcome my new employee in person."

"Oh, that's…very kind, Mr. Wayne, but not at all necessary," stammered Mrs. Napier. "I'm not used to…uh…"

She trailed off, playing nervously with her fingers. "Everyone here has been very kind," she finished, awkwardly.

Even her awkwardness was attractive, because it was so utterly natural. Thomas was completely fascinated. "May I ask why you took the job here?" asked Thomas.

"I feel very lucky to have it," she stammered. "Uh…thank you."

"I didn't have anything to do with it, but you're welcome," he said, beaming at her. "I wouldn't have let them give it to you if it was up to me, though. I hope you don't think this offensive, but I don't like seeing a woman working. I hate the thought of beautiful people having to waste their time slaving away eight hours a day behind some cramped desk."

She smiled shyly, enthralling Thomas even more. "Oh…well…I kinda…have to work. My husband is…between jobs. He has been for a while now."

There was pain in her eyes as she said this, and she continued to play nervously with her hands. But the mention of her husband reigned Thomas in somewhat – as captivating as this woman was, she was married. And he wasn't the kind of man who chased after married women.

"Well…in that case…I guess I'll leave you to it," he said, smiling. "Uh…let me know if you need anything or have any problems. I'd be happy to help."

"I wouldn't dream of troubling you, Mr. Wayne…"

"No, please, I mean it," he said, gazing at her sincerely. "I like to think everyone who works for me should be able to approach me personally. I'll certainly do my best to help them."

Mrs. Napier smiled at him. "You're a very decent man, Mr. Wayne," she replied. "Not at all what I was expecting…" She caught herself, blushing in embarrassment. "I'm sorry, that was…"

"Honest," finished Thomas, smiling at her. "I like that."

He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. "Very nice to meet you, Mrs. Napier."

"And you, Mr. Wayne," she replied.

"It's Thomas," he said. "Always Thomas to you, Mrs. Napier. See you later."

"It's Mary!" she called after him, suddenly.

"Mary," he breathed, the thought of the name making him happy beyond reason. "Oh, this is bad, Thomas," he whispered to himself as he walked away. "This is very, very bad."


	2. Chapter 2

Thomas Wayne visited Wayne Tower a lot after that. His employees had never seen him concerning himself with his business so much. Nearly every day he would stride past reception with a cheerful, "Good morning, Mary!" to his secretary, and then take the elevator to his office. He spent the rest of the day waiting for moments when he could make an excuse to head past reception again, or call her in to take a memo or deliver a message. It wasn't healthy, he knew that, but he couldn't help himself. He was absolutely crazy for her.

He would never dream of trying anything though – he couldn't take the risk that it might all go wrong, and she would quit, and then he would never see her again. The thought was almost unbearable, and so he satisfied himself with just being near her day after day. Every moment he spent with her, he liked her more and more. It wasn't just her exceptional beauty – she had the kindest, most generous heart he had ever seen. Compared to the type of women he was used to, the rich, selfish, and snobbish, she was a breath of fresh air, air that he now needed to breathe.

"Good morning, Mary!" he said as he entered Wayne Tower one morning a few weeks later. She was startled, and suddenly dropped the makeup she had been applying to her face, looking up at him. His face fell in horror when he saw that the makeup only partially covered up several ugly bruises on her face.

"What…" he began.

"Nothing. It's nothing," she said hastily, picking up the compact and pocketing it. "I tripped and fell down the stairs, clumsy…"

He caught her hand and she looked up at him, tears shimmering in her eyes. He studied her face gently. Thomas was a doctor, and the bruises were quite clear in their shape and definition. Someone had hit her.

"Who did this?" he asked, quietly.

"No one, I told you," she repeated firmly. "I tripped and fell down the stairs…"

"Please don't lie to me, Mary," he murmured. "I'm a doctor."

"It's…no one. It's nothing," she repeated firmly, ripping her arm away from him. "Nothing to concern yourself with, Thomas. Please just forget about it."

He wanted to do as she asked, but couldn't. After that, he noticed more and more that she wore clothing that would completely cover her arms and legs, even in summer. And he gradually realized that this was because, whenever a stray movement caused her skin to be exposed, that it was black and blue. He noticed the days when she wore thick makeup on her face to hide her black eyes and cut cheeks. He didn't want to believe that anyone had the heart to abuse this precious angel of a woman, but he couldn't hide from the facts. And nor could he let it continue without trying to put a stop to it.

He buzzed her into his office. "Mary, may I see you for a moment, please?"

"Right away, Thomas," she replied, and entered the room a second later. One of her eyes was swollen – the makeup couldn't conceal that. But she beamed at him as if nothing was wrong. "Yes, sir?" she asked.

"Please sit down, Mary," he said, gesturing across from him. "You've been working for me for a little while now, and I've just realized…we talk a lot and everything, but I don't know anything about your home life. Your family…your husband…you don't seem to speak about him."

Mary's smile fell. "Oh," she stammered, looking down at her hands and playing with them again. "Well, I guess it's just…never come up. What do you…uh…want to know?"

He studied her gently. "Is it just your husband?" he asked. "You don't have kids?"

"No," she said, gazing at the floor. "No, my husband…doesn't want children. And there's no arguing with him…about anything, really..."

She trailed off, tears filling her eyes.

"Do you want children?" he asked.

She wiped her eyes firmly. "It doesn't matter, because my husband doesn't," she repeated. "It takes two people to make a baby, and he would never consent to…"

She trailed off again. "What's your husband's name?" asked Thomas.

"Joseph," she said.

"Do you love him?" he asked, gently.

She gazed at him, shocked. "What kind of question is that?" she demanded. "Of course I love him! He's my husband! I wouldn't have married him if I didn't…love him!"

Tears streamed from her eyes, despite her best efforts to hold them back, and it broke Thomas's heart. He handed her his handkerchief and tried to soothe her, coming over to sit on his desk.

"Is he the one who hits you?" he asked, quietly.

"He doesn't mean to," she whispered. "He just drinks, and when he drinks he gets violent."

"Is he always drunk?" asked Thomas. "Because I've never seen you without bruises."

"He is, these days," she agreed, wiping her eyes. "He's out of work, and depressed. There's nothing I can do to help him. But he's not like this, not really. The man I married…wasn't like this."

"How old were you when you were married?" he asked.

"It was three years ago. I was…sixteen," she murmured. "Why?"

"Just…maybe when you're that young, you don't really know the person you're marrying," murmured Thomas. "You must have really loved him, though, to be so certain when you were so young that you wanted to spend the rest of your life with him."

"It wasn't…my decision," she stammered. "He was…an associate of my father's – he…gave me to him. I think money was involved…I think…Joseph paid them…but my parents were both eager to get me out of the house as quickly as possible. I don't think they ever forgave me for not being a son and not being able to do useful, paid work. I thought…with the way they treated me at home, the…the beatings and the constant housework, that I was going to a better life as a married woman. But I still have…a lot of work to do at home."

Thomas had noticed her clothes were not only plain, but they were patched and repaired many times. "And you're still being beaten," he murmured, trying to hide the fury in his voice. The thought that this precious woman had been sold, like a slave, into slavery for another man, made his anger almost uncontrollable.

"I told you, it's only when he drinks," she whispered. "And he only drinks because he's depressed and out of work…"

"How long has he been out of work?" interrupted Thomas.

"It's been…two years now," she whispered. "It's hard for him…there aren't many jobs available these days…"

"So you work eight hours here, and then go home and work God knows how many hours there," said Thomas, quietly. "Do you ever sleep? Or have any time to…relax? Any time for yourself?"

"What would I do with time for myself? I'm not used to it…it would just be…weird." She forced a smile. "If you don't like calling me Mary, you can always call me Cinderella…"

"Don't joke about it," interrupted Thomas, coldly. "It's not funny. Not to me."

"You think it's funny to me?" she asked, quietly. "But it's my life, Thomas. And I have to cope with it somehow. Joking about it helps me do that. I mean, it is funny, isn't it? Can you imagine me as a fairytale princess?"

"Yes," murmured Thomas, gazing at her. "Yes, I can."

She laughed at what she presumed was a joke on his part. "What kind of princess looks and dresses like me?" she asked. "Except Cinderella before the ball, I guess. And even then, she was pretty…"

"You don't think you're pretty?" asked Thomas, shocked.

She looked down at her hands again. "Not compared to…other women. Especially the ones who work here. But I don't spend a lotta time thinking about it, really. I don't have the time for that kinda thing."

She stood up. "Is that all you wanted to see me about?"

"How long are you going to put up with being treated like this?" asked Thomas, quietly.

"Well…as long as it takes for Joseph to get back into work," murmured Mary. "And to stop his drinking. I try to help him get off the alcohol, but he...doesn't understand that's what I'm trying to do when I hide it, and it just makes matters worse. He gets so angry, and he won't stop until I tell him where it is...but once he gets another job, I'm sure he won't be like this."

Thomas nodded slowly. "Tell him to come here," he murmured. "I'd like to interview him for a position. It wouldn't be anything too interesting, probably janitorial type work, but I would see to it that he's paid a decent salary."

She stared at him. "You would do that…for me?" she whispered.

"I told you, anything I can do to help," he replied. "And it's more than I can stand to see you hurt."

"Oh…thank you, Thomas!" she gasped. "Thank you, thank you, thank you! I'll make sure he's dressed nicely, and presentable and…oh, Thomas, I don't know how to thank you!" she whispered, flinging herself into his arms and hugging him tightly.

Thomas returned the hug, shutting his eyes and savoring the nearness of her, the scent of her hair, and her beautiful body held tightly against his. She drew away, but he caught her, not able to bear the thought of parting from her just yet. She was confused – her wide eyes gazed up into his as her breathing sped up a little, her slightly parted lips seeming to beckon him in. He drew closer before he could control himself, her lips were inches from his, and their eyes were locked in a mutual gaze of fear and excitement.

He released her suddenly before he could go any further. "Uh…tell your husband to come here tomorrow at three," he stammered.

"Three," she repeated, nodding. "Ok…thank you, Thomas. I'll…see you soon."

She left him without another word, her body shaking. Thomas stared after her in longing, and then sighed heavily. "So I'll be seeing the husband tomorrow," he muttered, turning to stare out the window. "I hope I can refrain from punching him in the face."


	3. Chapter 3

At three the next day, Thomas Wayne was alone in his office. After forty-five minutes of waiting, he buzzed Mary in. "Did your husband have other commitments today?" he asked her as she entered slowly, head bowed.

"Uh…no," she stammered. "He just…uh…he…he's very grateful for the offer, Thomas, but doesn't think he'd be…quite suitable for the job."

Thomas stared at her. "Oh," he stammered. Then he cleared his throat. "I'm sorry if this sounds offensive, but I didn't realize…he was in a position to be choosey about his employment."

"Well…he seems to think he is," she murmured, playing nervously with her hands. "And you…can't really argue with him. Once Joseph's made up his mind, it doesn't change."

"Does he…" began Thomas, but the phone on his desk rang at that moment.

"I'll get it," said Mary, hastily, grabbing the phone before he could pick it up. "Hello, Thomas Wayne's office."

"That you, Mary?" snapped an unpleasant voice on the other end. Mary tried to hold the phone away from Thomas, but he heard every word clearly.

"Yes, Joseph, it's my job to answer Mr. Wayne's phone," muttered Mary.

"Well, pass me over to him, would ya?"

Mary gazed at Thomas, and shut her eyes tightly. "He's not here at the moment, Joseph," she whispered.

"Oh. Where's he gone? Out playing a round of golf with his rich business buddies?" sneered the voice.

"I…I don't know, Joseph," she whispered. "And I don't know when he'll be back, so please just…"

"What, Mary?" he interrupted, coldly. "Drop it? Don't tell the rich son of a bitch how insulted I am about that pathetic, pity job offer? If you see him, you pass the message on, then. Tell him I don't want or need his goddamn charity."

"He was just trying to be nice, Joseph," whispered Mary. "You should be thanking him, not taking offense…"

"Thanking him?" repeated Joseph, incredulously. "Thanking him for insulting me?! You expect me to go over there and grovel to that rich bastard for offering me a job a monkey could do?! I'm worth more than that, even though you can't see that, you ungrateful slut! That kinda work is beneath me!"

"Joseph, please…" she began, tearing up.

"Oh, and while I've got you on the line, where did you hide the money from your last paycheck? I need it."

Mary bit her lip. "Joseph, we need that money for the rent…" she began.

"No, I need that money for a drink, you stupid woman, to cope with the misery of my life with you!" he shouted, furiously. "So where is it?! God dammit, Mary, don't you care about me at all, you selfish bitch?! I'm your husband, for Christ's sake! I own you, and everything you have, so when I order you to tell me where that money is, you do it!"

"Joseph, please, I'm at work," she whispered, tears falling down her cheeks.

"Good! I want everyone at work to know you're a disobedient, unfeeling whore! If you're shamed enough there, you might start respecting me and change your ways, you useless slut! Now tell me where the money is, or I swear to God when you get home I'll make you wish you'd never been born!"

"It's…under the mattress, Joseph," she whispered, her whole body shaking as she continued to cry silently.

"Wasn't so hard, was it?" snapped Joseph. "I'll be home late tonight, so don't wait up, not that you ever do, you lazy piece of trash."

"Ok," she whispered. "Bye, Joseph."

"Bye and what?!" he roared.

"I…I love you," she stammered. The phone clicked off and Mary slowly hung it back up.

"I'm…sorry you had to hear that, Thomas," she whispered, wiping her eyes. "Excuse me…"

She tried to flee the room, but he caught her arm. "Mary, let me call the police," he whispered.

"No," she stammered. "No, you can't do that. It will only make him angry, and he'll blame me."

"The police could offer you protection…" began Thomas.

"No, they couldn't," she whispered. "You don't know him, Thomas. He's…he's a dangerous man. I would never feel safe knowing he was after me. Never."

Thomas took her by the shoulders. "Listen to me," he said, gently. "You are not going home to that brute tonight. You are coming with me to Wayne Manor, and I will protect you from him until I can get him arrested and put away."

"Thomas, please don't take this the wrong way, but the best thing you can do for me is just leave it alone," she whispered, staring earnestly at him. "Doing anything is just going to make matters worse…"

"How can matters be worse for you, Mary?" he demanded.

"They could be," she whispered, tears in her eyes. "Trust me. You don't know him, Thomas. You don't know what he's capable of."

Her whole body was shaking in fear. "Mary, I can't see you day after day knowing how horrible your home life is," he murmured. "I have to do something."

"There's nothing you can do," she said. "So please just drop it. Please."

She was looking up at him with her wide, blue eyes, dripping tears. She was overwhelmingly beautiful and helpless and vulnerable, and there was nothing he could do for her. Nothing except…show her how much she mattered to him.

He surrendered to the urge before he fully realized what he was doing, and gently pressed his lips against hers. She let out a little moan of surprise, but didn't draw away. He embraced her tenderly, and his touch suddenly brought her back to reality.

She shoved herself away from him. "No…no, please, Thomas, don't torture me," she whispered, gazing at him in agony. "Please don't make everything worse…"

"Mary…" he began, stepping forward, but she backed away from him.

"No, please, Thomas," she whispered. "Please just…stay away. You have to understand, I can't…I just can't…"

She sobbed and raced from the room without another word.


	4. Chapter 4

Thomas Wayne left his office late that night. All his employees had gone home, except one. There was a lamp lit on Mary's desk as she sat with her head bowed over a stack of open files.

Thomas approached her. "Working late?" he asked.

She nodded, not looking up at him. "I…I don't want to go home," she whispered. "If Joseph started drinking at three this afternoon, he'll be impossible to deal with when he gets in."

"Then don't go home," murmured Thomas. "Come home with me."

She looked up at him. "Thomas, please, I told you…"

"You'll have your own room," he interrupted. "A place to sleep completely undisturbed. And you won't be coming into work for the next few days. I don't want…anything in return. I just don't want to see you hurt anymore."

She buried her face in her hands. "Joseph will kill me if I don't come home tonight," she whispered.

"I'm afraid he'll kill you if you do," murmured Thomas. "But if you want an excuse, I'll send him a letter saying I needed you at a business meeting in Metropolis, which is going to take you away for a few days. Then he doesn't have to suspect anything."

"He'll be angry I didn't tell him in advance…" she began.

"It seems to me he'll be angry whatever you do," interrupted Thomas. "At least you'll be safe for a little while. If you won't let me help you any more than that, at least let me offer you a little sanctuary for a short time. It's better than nothing."

She nodded slowly. "All right," she whispered. "Thank you."

Thomas picked up the phone. "Alfred, please bring the car round," he said.

"Very good, sir," replied his butler's stoic voice.

Thomas held out his arm. "Come on, Mary. Let me take you home."

Alfred raised an eyebrow as Thomas helped Mary into the backseat and climbed in after her. "Alfred, this is Mary Napier. Mary, Alfred," he said, introducing them. "Mrs. Napier is going to be staying with us for a couple days, Alfred."

"Very good, sir," repeated Alfred, hoping his master knew what he was doing.

Mary stared out the window during the drive, her body shaking and her eyes glassy. Thomas gently reached out to take her hand in his, and she clutched it tightly.

He helped Mary out of the car and led her inside as Alfred pulled up in the driveway of Wayne Manor. Mary stared in amazement at the size of the building, and the moment the door opened, her eyes grew even wider at the splendor and luxury within.

"I've…I've never seen anyplace so…beautiful," she gasped. "I'm afraid to touch anything," she said, giving Thomas a small smile.

He smiled back. "Don't be," he said. "I'd be happy to see a lot of this gone, but don't tell Alfred," he said, as his butler entered. "Could you please prepare a room for Mrs. Napier, Alfred?"

"Yes, sir," said Alfred, bowing slightly and heading off to obey him.

"Is it just you and Alfred here?" asked Mary.

"Yep," replied Thomas, nodding. "It's a lotta space for just the two of us, I admit, but Alfred is a jack of all trades in terms of servants, and I don't have any other family. Still, sometimes it does seem a waste. Especially when I think about all the people in this city without anyplace to live."

"Maybe you could move somewhere smaller, and convert this place into a hospital," she suggested. "Since you're so interested in medicine. Like what Amadeus Arkham did to his mansion, turning it into an asylum."

"That's a good idea," said Thomas, nodding.

"Maybe it could be a free clinic type thing, for people who aren't as well off," continued Mary. "The less fortunate who don't have anywhere else to go. I mean, at least I have a roof over my head…for now…"

She trailed off. "If he's blown your rent money on drink, I'll pay for it," said Thomas, seeming to read her thoughts.

"Thank you, Thomas, but I wouldn't want to accept charity from you," she said. "I'll find a way to pay it off, even if I have to work late every night from now on."

"I don't want you to do that, Mary," murmured Thomas. "I don't want you working your fingers to the bone to make up for his selfishness and laziness."

She stared at the floor. "You don't love him, do you?" he murmured, gazing at her. "You can't possibly, with the way he treats you, and having been sold to him like that…"

"He's my husband," she repeated, firmly. "I have a duty to love him. And I do…try. There's nothing else I can do but try."

"You can leave him," murmured Thomas. "Divorce him."

"He'd never give me a divorce," she murmured. "And he'd never let me leave. I'm…married to him til death do us part. And it's wicked of me to say, but…sometimes I hope it does that sooner rather than later. Joseph is a lot older than me, after all, and the constant drinking can't be healthy…" She shut her eyes tightly. "But that's a horrible thing for me to hope for. I'm a…terrible wife."

Thomas took her hand. "You are the sweetest, most generous, most patient woman I have ever met," he murmured. "Not to mention the most beautiful."

She blushed and drew her hand slowly away. "Thank you, Thomas. But I'm sure it can't be right for you to speak to a…married woman like that."

"No, please forgive me," he whispered, gazing at her. "I'm sorry."

They stared at each other, and Thomas gently embraced her. She shivered but didn't try to draw away. "Mary, I…" he began, leaning forward.

"Mrs. Napier's room is ready, sir," said Alfred suddenly, breaking the spell. They pulled away from each other hastily.

"Oh…great," stammered Thomas. "I'll just…uh…show her the way…"

"Do allow me, sir," said Alfred, firmly, taking Mary's arm. "It's for the best," he added, glancing at him knowingly as he escorted Mary away, with Thomas gazing after her longingly.

"Here you are, Mrs. Napier," he said, opening the door to a lavish bedroom. "There is nightwear in the drawers, a toothbrush in the bathroom, and towels in the cupboard," he said, holding open the door to show her.

She laughed. "Something amusing, madam?" asked Alfred, puzzled.

"No, it's just…" She laughed again, looking inside the cupboard. "This closet is bigger than my apartment."

She looked around the room in awe. "Mr. Wayne is a…very generous man," she stammered, smiling nervously at him.

"Indeed he is, madam," agreed Alfred, nodding. "Sometimes too generous for his own good, if I might be permitted to say so."

"I'm not…" stammered Mary. "That is, there's nothing…we're not doing anything wrong, please believe that."

"What I believe does not matter, madam," replied Alfred. "I am merely a servant. My only concern is that you are comfortable for the remainder of your stay with us."

He headed for the door. "But if I might be so bold, madam," he added, turning to her. "I believe you are telling the truth. And for your own sake, and for his, I beg you keep things the way they are, and do not engage in any behavior you think you might regret. I fear that even the purest and most innocent love, if it is born of sin, can only beget more sin. But perhaps I am needlessly cautious. I would hate to see either of you get hurt. Mr. Wayne has a reputation to preserve, and he cannot do so by an intimacy with a married woman. I think he is sensible enough to understand this. I think you are too. I would only urge you to remember that. Goodnight, madam."

He shut the door without another word.


	5. Chapter 5

"Is Mrs. Napier awake yet, Alfred?" asked Thomas, as he sat at breakfast the next day.

"I considered it best to let her rest, sir," replied Alfred, serving him his meal. "I daresay she needs it."

"She does," he agreed, nodding. "But she also needs a few square meals."

"I shall bring her breakfast in bed when she wakes, sir," replied Alfred.

"Thank you, but that's not necessary," murmured a soft voice from the doorway as Mary entered the room. "Good morning."

Thomas stared at her, utterly captivated. She wore a thin robe over her nightgown, and her hair was tousled from just waking up. She had the sleepy, peaceful look that comes from a good night's rest, and Thomas couldn't help but imagine that look one morning after they had spent the night together, her giving him that beautiful, serene smile as he pulled her small, naked body close and kissed her…

"Good…good morning," he stammered, forcing his thoughts away from scenes of that nature. "Uh…how did you sleep?"

"I've never slept better in my life," replied Mary, sincerely. "But then I've never had a bed that size, or my own room before…I can't imagine what it's like to enjoy that every day."

"Well, you…get used to it pretty quick," said Thomas, feeling a pang of guilt at the everyday things he took for granted, but which seemed almost miraculous to Mary. He cleared his throat, smiling. "Tomorrow you should sleep in, and I'll have Alfred bring you breakfast in bed – now that's a treat."

"I don't think I'd feel comfortable being waited on…" said Mary, watching Alfred nervously as he poured her a cup of tea. Her hands reached out to hold the cup for him as he poured, desperate not to be idle. "It just makes me feel useless," she said. "Like I can't do it myself…"

Thomas laughed. "Well, I'm glad I don't feel like that, or Alfred would be out of a job," he said, smiling at her. "Do you mind if he makes breakfast for you?"

"No, I don't…uh…thank you," she stammered.

"My pleasure, madam," said Alfred, bowing and leaving them.

Mary sipped her tea timidly. "Thomas, I was thinking last night…" she said, slowly. "This is very kind of you, but I should probably…go home. Joseph might need me…"

"For what? Money?" he demanded. "Forgive me if I don't care about his needs in particular, Mary."

"I just…wouldn't feel comfortable…taking advantage of your hospitality for much longer," she stammered, playing with her hands again. "You know, I wasn't brought up to accept charity, and…"

She was clearly grasping for excuses. Thomas studied her intently. "Tell me the truth," he said, bluntly. "Why don't you want to stay here?"

She looked up at him. "I just don't want…anything to happen," she murmured. "I don't want either of us doing something that we…might regret. I mean, you've said you think I'm…pretty, and…and we've kissed, and I…I…"

"You what?" he asked, gently.

"I…think you're the most wonderful man I've ever met," she breathed, gazing at him. She forced her eyes back down to the table suddenly. "And so, you see, there's a danger of both of us getting…carried away, and I can't…let that happen. I'm married, I…"

Tears were shimmering in her eyes as she looked up at him again. "I just think it would be best if I went home," she murmured. "Back where I belong, to my own life, the kind of life I'm used to, not this…this amazing dream which I'm only going to have to wake up from. When you have a nice dream, it…it just makes reality more difficult when you wake up, you see, so I should wake up sooner rather than later and not…continue to torture myself…or you…like this."

Thomas nodded slowly. "Is that really what you want?" he asked.

"Yes, please," she murmured.

He nodded again. "All right," he said. "I respect you too much to force you to stay, despite how much good I think it would do you to relax for a few days. I'll tell Alfred to get the car ready and we'll leave after breakfast."

She smiled gratefully at him. "Thank you," she whispered. "I…I'm sorry to disappoint you…I would never want to offend you after all you've done for me…"

"You could never offend me, Mary," he interrupted. "Or disappoint me. Please believe that."

He took her hand. "Please believe also that I am always here for you if you need a friend. And if the reality of your life ever becomes too overwhelming for you…you're always welcome to return to your dream."

She beamed at him. "Thank you," she repeated, squeezing his hand tightly. They finished their breakfast in silence.

Thomas insisted on accompanying her on the drive back. Alfred, via her instructions, parked the car outside a dingy block of flats in a run-down neighborhood. "Can't say I've ever been to this part of town before," said Thomas, forcing a smile.

"Good. You should stay away – it's a horrible place," she said. "The locals call it Crime Alley. Once you get away from here, you should never come back. The atmosphere of the neighborhood…traps you. You feel like…like it won't let you leave, like the very air is trying to…suffocate you."

She took a deep breath, putting her hand on the car door. But she didn't open it. Thomas watched her shaking body as she tried to find the courage to open that door, to step back into her miserable life of pain and horror. "C'mon, Cinderella," she whispered to herself, shutting her eyes. "The ball's over. Midnight's come and gone – your ball dress is rags again, and you've lost your glass slipper. But you've had a wish granted. You've spent the evening with a handsome prince, who…kissed you. You've had much more than you could ever deserve. Time to wake up now."

Her hand was shaking on the door handle, and she took a deep breath. Thomas seized her other hand. "Don't, Mary," he whispered as she turned to face him, tears trailing down her cheeks. "Don't."

"I have to," she whispered. "What good would it do, Thomas, to keep pretending like this? To keep dreaming…it will just hurt to wake up…"

"It's going to hurt either way," he whispered. "But wouldn't you rather keep dreaming for as long as possible? So that when…when you do wake up, when reality takes over again…you can remember the dream? So you can have memories that keep your strong, even in the darkest of times? That's all we have in the end, Mary. Our memories. I can't promise you a better life, but I can promise you you'll remember the time we spent together. And if your feelings for me are anything like my feelings for you, those memories will protect you, and warm you, and shield you from the darkness of your life."

She burst into tears. "Oh God, Thomas, why does this have to be so hard?" she gasped. "Why did you have to be so wonderful?"

He shushed her, embracing her gently. "I can promise to make you happy, Mary. Don't you want to be happy?"

"Happy," she whispered, staring at him and crying silently. "I…I don't even know what that word means, Thomas."

He reached out to stroke her hair, sliding his other arm around her waist and pulling her close. "Let me show you," he whispered, kissing her tenderly.

She let out a sob, and then threw her arms around his neck, pressing his mouth tightly into hers and clutching him desperately, as if afraid of losing him.

"Sir?" said Alfred's voice from the front of the car. The partition was up between the front and back seats, so he didn't know what was going on, or why Mrs. Napier hadn't vacated the car so they could return to a more civilized part of town. "Is everything all right?"

"Change of plan, Alfred," said Thomas, drawing away from Mary gently and pulling the blinds on the window, hiding Crime Alley from view. "I'm taking Mrs. Napier back where she belongs."

Alfred's face betrayed no emotion, but there was a slight reluctance in his voice as he started the engine and said, "Very good, sir."


	6. Chapter 6

"Are you all right?" murmured Thomas, holding Mary tenderly in his arms as he stroked her hair back from her face. She was breathing heavily, gazing up at him in adoration, and smiled as he cuddled her naked body gently against his.

"Yeah," she whispered, snuggling deeper into his arms. "It was…so nice, Thomas. It's never…been nice before. My…my husband isn't concerned with my feelings…he's…not a tender man…he…" She squeezed her eyes shut. "Oh God, what have I done?" she whispered, sitting up suddenly. "I've…I've cheated on my husband…"

Thomas embraced her soothingly, shushing her and kissing her forehead. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I thought you wanted this…"

"I did," she whispered, holding him tightly. "I did, and I do, but it's…it's wrong, Thomas…"

"Did it feel wrong?" he murmured. "It didn't to me."

She shook her head slowly. "No, it felt…incredible. But there's got to be a price for all this happiness, Thomas. Nothing in life comes free, and I can't believe that such amazing things come without a cost…"

He kissed her gently. "The most amazing things in life are free," he murmured. "Love is. And mine is given completely and wholeheartedly to you, without asking for anything in return. I love you, Mary."

She smiled at him, tears shimmering in her eyes. "I love you too, Thomas," she whispered, embracing him. "And I will never, ever forget how happy I am at this moment with you."

They shared a few more tender kisses, and then he stood up, heading over to his dressing table. "Got you something," he said, returning to bed and handing her a small box.

She looked at it in surprise, clutching the blankets to her chest. "What is it?" she asked.

"Open it and see," he said, kissing her.

"Thomas, you can't propose to me…I'm married…" she gasped.

He laughed. "It's not an engagement ring," he said, kissing the top of her head. "Just open it."

She obeyed him, and saw the shimmer of a thin gold chain in the dim candlelight, and then the glint of diamond. "It's a necklace," he said. "For my beautiful princess."

She pulled it out of the box slowly and saw that a small diamond in the shape of a glass slipper hung from the gold chain.

"Thomas, you know I…can't accept this," she stammered. "I could never afford something like this…Joseph would see…there would be too many questions…"

"Just wear it for now, then," he said, taking it from her and fastening it around her neck. He smiled, gazing at her. "You see, the shoe fits," he said, touching her cheek. "That means I've found my true love."

She beamed, kissing him. "It's so gorgeous, Thomas," she whispered, touching the charm gently. "Thank you. Nothing this beautiful has ever belonged to me before."

"Everything that's beautiful belongs with you," he murmured, twining his fingers with hers. She smiled and kissed him, snuggling into his arms again as they lay back down.

"You don't regret this, do you?" he asked, after a moment of silence.

"No, I can't bear to," she replied. "Not when it was so wonderful."

"Would you do it again?" he asked.

She grinned. "Are you asking?"

He grinned back. "No, but I'm not vetoing the idea either," he said, kissing her. "I just want to make sure you're comfortable with this. I don't like the thought that I forced you into this, or that I'm pressuring you to do something you regret."

"Oh Thomas," she murmured, holding him gently. "If there is a God, I'm already damned for adultery. What does it matter how many times He damns me?"

They lay in silence. "My parents were very religious, you know," she murmured.

He snorted. "Your parents who sold you at sixteen to a man more than twice your age were very religious?" he repeated. "That a joke?"

"It is, the more I think about it," she agreed. "They liked using religion as a tool to instill fear in me. From a young age, they taught me that demons and devils would carry naughty and disobedient little girls off to hell. I stopped believing in demons and devils when I married Joseph, and saw that there was more than enough evil on this earth already without making up fake terrors. But I've been afraid ever since I was a little girl of doing wrong, of being disobedient and wicked." She squeezed his hand. "And now that I am doing wrong, with you…I'm not afraid anymore. I don't care what anyone thinks about me, now that you love me."

He beamed, taking her hands and sitting up. "Mary, let's go away," he said.

"Away where?" she asked, surprised.

"Anywhere. Just away from here, away from Gotham," he said. "Let's leave this dirty city with its horrific past behind and start afresh, with just the two of us. Where nobody knows who I am, and nobody knows you're married, and just stay together forever."

Mary laughed. "You are quite the joker, Thomas," she said, pressing his hand gently. "Some headline: _Billionaire Businessman Elopes with Married Secretary_. It's funny, thinking we can just run away and leave it all."

"What's stopping us?" he demanded.

"Everything," she said. "You're Thomas Wayne, head of Wayne Enterprises. You're a celebrity. Everyone knows who you are – you're famous worldwide. You'd be recognized wherever we go. And besides, you have responsibilities here – you have your company to run…"

"Oh, to hell with Wayne Enterprises!" retorted Thomas. "Mr. Kane can have it. I don't have anything to do with it anyway."

"And your patients?" she pressed. "Most of them probably couldn't afford another doctor."

"I don't care about them, Mary," he murmured. "Not compared to you."

She played with his fingers. "Everything is connected, Thomas," she murmured. "Nobody can just cut themselves off from their life and start over. The past always holds you back. There are ties to the past that can affect the future in ways you can't even imagine. Nobody is ever truly free…there are always consequences for selfishness…"

He kissed her firmly. "That's not true," he muttered. "That's something your parents told you to keep you chained in misery. I have seen so many selfish people in my time who are nothing but happy. Where are your husband's consequences?"

"I hope for them every day," she murmured, tearing up again. "They'll come. I have to believe that."

"Let me give them to him," he whispered. "Let me call the police. All they would need is one look at your body to put him away forever…" he murmured, trailing his fingers softly down her series of bruises. She flinched.

"You're wrong, Thomas," she whispered. "I'm his wife. According to the law, I'm his property, and he can do whatever he wants to me…"

"Then the law is wrong!" snapped Thomas. "And I'll change it! I'll pay anyone I have to to make sure he's locked away for good…"

She laughed again. "Oh, Thomas," she whispered, snuggling against his chest. "It must be so nice to be raised the way you were, thinking you can change everything. Thinking that the law doesn't apply to you, that you're special. And to have the money and the power to be special, and to do things that aren't lawful – I can't imagine what that must feel like. But it wouldn't be right, you know, taking the law into your own hands."

"This isn't right, Mary!" he whispered furiously, clutching her bruised arms. She hissed again.

"Thomas, please, gently," she breathed.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, kissing her tenderly as his touch became gentler, stroking her flesh softly. "I'm sorry, Mary, it just makes me so angry. To think about life being so unjust that a man like that can do this to you without any punishment from the law…"

"It will come, Thomas," she whispered. "I promise you, his punishment will come. But we can't take matters into our own hands like that. We'd be no better than criminals. We just have to wait for goodness to prevail. That's what happens to Cinderella, you see," she whispered, smiling at him. "She tries to be good and patient and kind, and her virtue is eventually rewarded. I'm sure the same thing will happen to me. It already has, in fact," she murmured, kissing him.

He gazed at her. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, stroking her hair back from her face. "So beautiful. Not even the battering and the bruisings can hide that."

He kissed her. "I love you," he whispered. "I've said that to a lot of women, but I've never meant it before. Not like this."

"I used to hate saying it," she murmured. "I only ever said it to my parents, and to my husband, and it was always a lie. But to finally be able to say it freely, and truthfully…it's amazing. I love you, Thomas."

He enveloped her mouth, climbing on top of her gently. "Do you want…" he began, but she put a hand to his lips.

"Never ask me again," she whispered, beaming. "I will always want you."

She moaned a little in pain as he pressed against her bruises, but it quickly turned to soft moans of pleasure as his gentle lips and hands soothed the burning agony. She wrapped her arms around his neck and drew him down to her, understanding at last what happiness was.


	7. Chapter 7

"Mrs. Napier will be staying tonight, Alfred," said Thomas Wayne, as his butler cleared away his lunch. "So please prepare dinner for two, as well as breakfast tomorrow."

"Very good, sir," said Alfred. Something about his tone was unusually abrupt, and Thomas noticed.

"Alfred?" he said.

"Sir?" asked Alfred, turning.

"Do I sense a note of disapproval in your voice?" he asked.

"No, sir. I would not dream of criticizing your actions," replied Alfred, coolly. "I am just wondering how much longer you intend to prolong this affair. It has been several months now…"

"And I hope it will be many years more," retorted Thomas. "At least until her husband dies, and then I'm going to marry her."

"Is there any chance of her husband's death occurring in the near future?" asked Alfred. "Is he terminally ill or anything of the kind?"

"No, unfortunately," retorted Thomas. "But if I were a lesser man, I'd take matters into my own hands, Alfred, and hire someone to make sure he doesn't come home from the bar one night…"

"Do not even begin to think like that, sir," interrupted Alfred, sternly. "Once you cross that line and fall into that abyss, there will be no turning back. You're a good man, sir."

"It's no good being a good man if I can't even protect the woman I love from pain," he murmured. "I think about her every moment she's away from me, Alfred, wondering what kind of horrible things he's doing to her…"

Alfred studied him. "Sir, please don't think me heartless," he said. "I've served you long enough for you to know I have only your best interests at heart. And as such, I urge you to stop this affair before it's too late. A man in your position cannot be seen to be carrying on with a married woman…"

"I love her!" snapped Thomas. "I've never loved anyone else like I love her!"

"That is very admirable, sir, but hardly relevant," retorted Alfred. "You are a successful man with a reputation to preserve. Scandal of any kind could affect not only your personal interests, but your business ones as well. Wayne Enterprises could suffer…"

"What do you think it matters if some stupid, lifeless conglomerate suffers when that poor living, breathing woman suffers every day?" demanded Thomas.

"And how many living, breathing people would suffer if Wayne Enterprises began to fail, sir?" asked Alfred, quietly. "Jobs would be lost, people with families to support might have no means of doing so. You have a responsibility to them, sir, as head of the company..."

"What are you asking me to do, Alfred?!" demanded Thomas, furiously. "Sacrifice Mary's happiness for the greater good?! The needs of the many outweigh her needs, their happiness outweighs her happiness?!"

"I have always believed that the needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few," said Alfred, calmly. "Even when those few are close to my heart. I have no wish to make you unhappy, sir, but nothing good can come of this affair you are having. You will end up hurt having to carry on like this in secret with no end in sight, and if her husband finds out, she might end up dead. For both your sakes, I am begging you to come to your senses."

"No, Alfred," snapped Thomas, standing up. "No, I won't. I don't care what you think. Nothing matters more to me than Mary's happiness. I'll sacrifice anything I have to for that. There is nothing in this world more important to me. Nothing."

Alfred sighed. "I am sorry to see you so resolute, sir," he murmured, turning to go. "I never thought you could be so selfish. You are torturing that poor woman with a dream that will never come true."

"It will come true!" insisted Thomas. "I will marry her!"

Alfred smiled sadly. "Very good, sir," he repeated, leaving the room.

Despite his personal feelings on the subject, Alfred drove to Wayne Enterprises to pick up Mary after work as ordered. Thomas was waiting for her in the study when the door opened and Alfred announced, "Mrs. Napier, sir."

"Darling," whispered Thomas, taking her in his arms and kissing her tenderly as Alfred shut the door, leaving them alone. Mary returned the kiss, savoring the taste of his lips and trying to hold back her tears.

"Thomas, I have something to tell you," she murmured when he drew away at last. She was staring at him earnestly, with tears in her eyes.

"Of course, my love, anything," he said, taking her hands and smiling. "You look so serious…"

"I am being serious," she whispered, shutting her eyes. She played with his fingers, her nervous habit that Thomas adored. "I…I don't really know how to tell you this," she murmured. "I…didn't go to work today…"

"Is that all?" he laughed. "Well, I'll have to dock your salary, won't I, you naughty girl!" he chuckled.

"I didn't go to work today," she repeated, ignoring him. She avoided his gaze. "I…I went to the doctor's."

"Doctor's?" he repeated, confused. "Are you sick, my darling? You should have told me – I would have seen to you free of charge! But don't worry – I'll look after you now…"

"Thomas, please, just listen to me," she murmured, looking up at him pleadingly. "Please, just…"

She drew a deep breath. "The doctor confirmed what I've suspected for a little while now," she whispered. "Thomas, I…I'm pregnant."

He gazed at her, not comprehending. "Pregnant?" he repeated.

She nodded. "It's…it's yours. I know it's your baby."

"My baby," whispered Thomas, the realization gradually hitting him. He beamed suddenly. "Oh, my love, that's wonderful!" he exclaimed, embracing her.

"No, it's…it's the worst possible thing that could have happened," whispered Mary. "It's the end of everything. I can't...hide this from my husband, Thomas…"

"Oh, to hell with your husband, Mary!" cried Thomas. "He doesn't have anything to do with us anymore – I'm certainly not going to let you return to that brute now that you're carrying my child! I'm going to call him right now and tell him I'll pay him any amount of money he wants to grant you a divorce. Then I'll marry you, you'll have our baby, and we can finally be happy together, with no pretenses and nothing to hide."

She shut her eyes. "Oh, Thomas, they'd never leave us alone," she whispered. "Joseph would take your money, and then go straight to the papers and tell them how Thomas Wayne knocked up his wife. The media would hound us, and your society crowd would despise us. Our child would come into a world that hates him before he's even been born, the bastard child of Thomas Wayne and a poor, adulterous nobody, his slut of a secretary. We would be scorned and hated by everyone. Is that really the life you want for your child?"

"It won't be like that," he retorted. "And I don't care if it is! I don't care what anyone else thinks! As long as we're happy, what does the rest of the world matter?"

Mary smiled sadly. "Everything is connected, Thomas," she murmured. "We don't live on an island – we live in one of the busiest cities in America. And you're this city's most important and prominent citizen. You were born with tremendous power and influence, and you have a responsibility do what is best for your reputation. For the sake of everyone who works for you, and respects you."

She squeezed his hand. "I wish beyond reason that I could have my fairytale ending," she murmured. "That poor little Cinderella, some nobody from nowhere, could marry her handsome prince. But fairy tales aren't real, Thomas. In reality, Prince Charming could never marry Cinderella. He would have a duty to marry a princess who would benefit his kingdom politically, even if he didn't love her. You're not the Prince of Gotham, but you might as well be. You are a figurehead who has to put aside his personal feelings for the sake of everyone who depends on him. You have a duty to live the kind of life people can admire. And the world wouldn't admire you getting your married secretary pregnant. You can't change the attitude of the world, Thomas. All your money can never do that."

"What do you expect me to do, Mary?" whispered Thomas. "Just let you go back to that monster, pretend it's his child, and let him raise my baby?! He won't treat it any better than he does you! And what if he hits you while you're pregnant…"

"I'll protect the baby from him," she whispered. "I have to…it's the only option we have, Thomas. I thought about…going to a clinic, but…I can't bear to…to kill your child. Nobody can know it's yours. So I have to pretend it isn't, and do my best to convince everyone else it isn't either. And so do you. You can't be allowed to see it…"

"Mary…" he began.

"It's for your own good, Thomas!" she shouted. "Please! I'm just trying to protect you! I love you so much…"

"And I love you, Mary," he whispered, embracing her tightly. "And you cannot ask me to just sit back and pretend there's nothing between us anymore, that we never loved each other, and that I have nothing to do with your baby!"

"Do you love me, Thomas?" she whispered.

"You know I do…"

"Then you'll do this, for my sake," she whispered, gazing at him earnestly. "Please. It's for the best. I…I know it's for the best. I couldn't bear to ruin you, and I would, if we came forward with the truth."

"But Mary, I can't…let you go," he whispered, tears in his eyes. "I can't…I just can't…"

He buried his face against her neck, and she stroked his hair softly, soothing him. "Oh, my love," she whispered, shutting her eyes and holding him gently. "My precious, precious love. It was such a beautiful dream. But it's time to wake up now."

They held each other as the minutes ticked by, not saying a word. "I have to get back to Joseph," whispered Mary at last. "I have to make it look like…this is our accident."

She tried to draw away from him, but he held her tight. "Thomas, please," she whispered, tears in her eyes. "Please. Don't make this harder than it already is. If you love me, let me go."

"I can't…" he hissed. "I won't…"

"Please," she whispered, gazing up at him pleadingly with her wide, blue eyes.

He let out a sob and released her. She smiled sadly at him and headed for the door. "Mary, wait!" he called, grabbing hold of her again. "Wait, just a second…"

He raced from the room and returned a moment later with the small box that contained her glass slipper necklace. "Please take this with you," he whispered. "I want you to have it. To remember me by."

"I can't, Thomas," she whispered. "He'd see…"

He pulled the necklace out and slid it into her purse. "It's only small," he whispered, desperately. "You can hide it. You just have to take it…it's yours. I could never bear to see it around the neck of anyone else but you."

She smiled. "Thank you," she whispered, pressing his hand. "Goodbye, Thomas."

"Mary!" he called again. She turned, and he lay a hand on her belly, caressing it gently. "Take…take care of our baby," he whispered.

"I promise," she murmured, nodding. "It's the most precious thing in the world to me, because it's yours."

"What…what are you going to call it?" he asked.

She twined her fingers with his. "If it's a girl, Cindy," she murmured. "Like…like Cinderella. If it's a boy…" she trailed off.

"Jack," said Thomas. "That's a good fairy tale name. Jack and the Beanstalk, Jack the Giant Killer, Jack and Jill…how about Jack?"

"Jack," she repeated, nodding slowly. "Jack Napier."

"Jack Wayne," he retorted.

She shook her head. "He can never know, Thomas…"

"He can," retorted Thomas. "When your husband dies, you tell our child the truth. And then bring him here, to Wayne Manor, so he can claim his inheritance. I'll take care of both of you, I promise."

"You'll be…married by then," she said, forcing a smile. "It would be too awkward, Thomas…"

"I won't marry anyone else but you," he said, firmly. "I promise, Mary."

She shook her head. "Don't make promises you can't keep," she whispered. "I want you to get married, Thomas. I want you to be happy, as happy as you've made me. I want you to try to forget what we've shared and move on with your life, with no chains of the past to drag you down."

"You said we can't escape our past, Mary," he murmured. "I will never forget mine."

"Maybe not," she agreed. "But promise me you won't tell anyone about our baby and me, Thomas. Promise me, for my own sake, that you'll keep our secret from everyone, including Alfred. Promise me."

"I promise," whispered Thomas.

They kissed once more, and then Mary opened the door and left without looking back. The moment she was outside, she burst into tears and sank to the ground, emptying her heart with agonizing sobs as she clutched at her stomach.

"Madam?" asked Alfred, appearing suddenly. She wiped her eyes as he helped her to her feet. "Is there somewhere you would like me to take you?"

"Yes, please, Alfred," she whispered. "Home. Back where I belong."

Alfred nodded slowly. "Very good, madam," he murmured, leading her away. She looked back once to see Wayne Manor fading into the distance as they drove off, and then turned away from it forever.


	8. Chapter 8

**Five Years Later**

"…and in celebrity news, Gotham's own billionaire philanthropist and businessman, Thomas Wayne, has married Miss Martha Kane, wealthy socialite and heir to the Kane Chemical fortune, in a small, private ceremony today. Photographers managed to capture a few shots of the radiant bride in her Givenchy dress, and Mr. Wayne himself, looking elated to be marrying the woman of his dreams…"

Mary Napier had her eyes glued to the television screen, breathing heavily, as her fingers idly played with a small, gold chain in her hand. Her heart broke as images of Thomas beaming at his new bride flashed across the screen, but she tried to be happy for him. This was what she had wanted, after all, what she had encouraged him to do. He was happy, and that was her only concern.

She had continued to work for Wayne Enterprises after saying goodbye to Thomas, but had moved to a different department, doing secretarial work for a middle-management executive. She still saw Thomas occasionally when he would do his tours of the office – it was unavoidable. At first he would try to talk to her, to make her change her mind about her decision, but she remained firm. When she went on maternity leave to have the baby, Thomas refused to let her return to work, hiring someone to replace her while still paying her usual salary. He had told her this was because he wanted her to be home to take care of her baby, but Mary had begun to suspect it was also because he didn't want to be tormented at the sight of her anymore, and try to move on with his life. Which is what she had told him to do whenever they spoke, and which he finally clearly had. She still loved him, after all this time, and she was happy he was happy.

Or at least she tried to be, but she felt tears trickling down her face as the pictures kept coming. Martha Kane was so beautiful and glamorous-looking – Thomas deserved a woman like that. A woman who belonged with his social set, heiress to a fortune. She was perfect. And everything Mary had read about her had been positive – she was actively involved in charities to help the less fortunate, particularly children. She clearly had a loving, generous heart, and Mary knew she would make Thomas very happy. Her prince had found his princess. And it hadn't been her after all, just as she always secretly knew it wasn't.

She looked at the necklace in her hands, with the glass slipper dangling from it. She had kept it, secret and hidden, all this time, her reminder of the beautiful dream she had once shared with a handsome prince. But there was no returning to that dream now. It was over forever. Thomas was going to live happily ever after with his beautiful princess, and she…was going to close the book, and return to reality.

"Mommy?" said a voice, startling her. She looked up to see a small boy standing in the doorway, gazing at her in concern.

"Jack!" she said, forcing a smile and wiping away her tears. "You startled me!"

"Why are you crying, Mommy?" asked the boy. "Is Daddy around?"

"I…no, Jack, he's out…working, as usual," stammered Mary. She would always tell her son that Joseph was working when he was out at the bar. He was too young to understand the truth. "Why would Daddy be home?"

Jack shrugged. "You only cry when Daddy's around," he replied. "That's the only time I cry too. I don't know why he's so mean to both of us. I can't remember ever being mean to him."

"Oh…well…your Daddy…has a lot on his mind, Jack," whispered Mary. "It's hard being a grown-up, you know. You have a lot of responsibilities that can upset you."

"But you're always nice to me, Mommy," said Jack, coming over to cuddle her. "And happy."

"Well…I know how important it is to be happy all the time, Jack," she whispered, hugging him tightly. "I have so much to be happy about, you see. I have you."

"So does Daddy, but he's not happy about that," replied Jack.

"Well, your Daddy doesn't know the secret," she said, smiling at him.

"What secret?" asked Jack.

Mary shook her head, grinning. "Nah uh, can't tell you, baby," she said. "It's a secret."

"Tell me, Mommy!" pleaded Jack, jumping up and down. "Please! Tell me, tell me, tell me!"

He began covering her face with kisses, and she relented, laughing. "Ok, baby, I'll tell you," she said.

She drew him close and whispered in his ear, "A smile makes everything better."

"Really, Mommy?" asked Jack. "Everything?"

"Everything," she said, firmly. "Just smile, and all the bad feelings will go away. I promise."

Jack smiled. "It helps a little, Mommy," he agreed. "But I'm still hungry. And smiling doesn't make the hungriness go away."

Mary's face fell slightly. "Oh…I'm hungry too, baby, but…we don't have any money for food right now," she whispered, holding him gently against her.

"Isn't that why Daddy goes to work, Mommy?" asked Jack. "So he can make money? And he's at work all the time. So why don't we ever have any money?"

"Well…because…there are all kinds of things we have to pay for, Jack," she whispered. "Our home, and water, and electricity, and sometimes…sometimes we don't have enough money for all of it."

"Maybe Daddy could tell the people at work that, and then maybe they'd pay him more," suggested Jack.

Mary smiled. "Oh baby, I wish it worked like that," she whispered. She kissed him. "But I'll tell you what. Mommy is going to write a letter to…to…someone special…someone who will help us, and he'll make sure we get more money very soon, how about that?"

"But I'm hungry now, Mommy," murmured Jack, wrapping his arms around her neck. "My tummy hurts so much, it aches like the rest of me does when Daddy hits me."

There were tears in Mary's eyes as she clutched him tightly, soothing him. "Oh, baby, I wish I could do something…" she murmured, and then her eyes fell on the necklace in her hands. She hesitated for a moment, and then kissed Jack, helping him to his feet.

"C'mon, baby," she said, pocketing the necklace and reaching for his thin, ragged jacket. "Let's go get you some food."

They left the apartment and walked the few blocks to a local café, a dirty, run-down, greasy place. "Mrs. Napier!" said the owner, shocked, as she pushed open the door. "And this must be young Jack – my, how you've grown! Haven't seen you in months!"

"No…money's been very tight lately, Lou," said Mary, removing her scarf. "Joseph's still…having a difficult time…with work…"

She trailed off, and the owner nodded. "You're very patient with him, Mrs. Napier," he said. "He's a very lucky man."

Mary helped Jack into a stool by the counter. "Now you tell Lou here anything you want to eat, and he'll make it for you," she said, stroking Jack's hair back. "Anything and everything."

"I want a double cheeseburger with a big plate of french fries, and five hotdogs with ketchup and mustard, and a plate of chicken nuggets…" began Jack.

"Woah, hold on one second there, young fella!" laughed Lou. "I'm gonna need a pen to write this down. And a quick word with your Mommy," he said, nodding at Mary.

"I hate to bring this up, Mrs. Napier, but I run a business, not a charity," said Lou, gently, when they were out of earshot. "How are you planning on paying for all this?"

Mary reached into her pocket and held out the necklace. "The chain is real gold, and the charm is diamond," she said. "It's worth much more than anything Jack could possibly eat. But him not being hungry anymore is worth more to me than this."

Lou stared at the necklace in surprise. "Where did you get this?" he asked.

"Someone…gave it to me," stammered Mary. "A long time ago. Someone…very special," she whispered, tears filling her eyes again. "But my son is more important than anything else to me. Please take it."

Lou looked from her to the necklace. Then he shook his head slowly. "No, Mrs. Napier, you keep it," he said, pushing it back into her hands. "Just this once, Jack can have anything he wants for free. And so can you. You look like you could use a square meal, or at least a cup of coffee."

Mary nodded. "Thank…thank you, Lou," she whispered. "Just a cup of coffee will be fine for me."

She headed back over to her son, cuddling him gently as Lou took his order. "What's that, Mommy?" asked Jack, noticing the necklace she still held.

"Oh, it's…nothing, Jack," she whispered, putting it back in her pocket. "Just a present I got a long time ago."

"It's shiny," said Jack. "And pretty. Did Daddy give it to you?"

Mary smiled. "Yes," she whispered, kissing his forehead. "Your Daddy gave it to me."

"God dammit!" swore Lou, flipping the channels on the TV. "Sorry, kid," he said, remembering Jack was there and turning to apologize to him.

"That's ok – Daddy says things like that all the time," said Jack casually, as a waitress handed him a cheeseburger, which he eagerly devoured.

"There's nothing on this stupid box other than that rich boy Wayne's wedding," growled Lou, continuing to flip channels. "As if anybody cares that some rich snob is marrying another rich snob!"

He gave up trying to find something else to watch with a sigh, returning to the kitchen to cook, and leaving the television reporting on Thomas Wayne's wedding. Mary stared at it, and then glanced at Jack, wondering if anyone else could see the resemblance between him and his real father. Maybe it was for the best that they couldn't.

"I spoke to Mr. Wayne briefly after the ceremony, and he told me it was the happiest day of his life," said the presenter to her fellow guests. "I have honestly never seen two people more in love – they make a perfect couple. I asked Mr. Wayne if he thought it was true love, and he said if it wasn't, he didn't know what was."

There was a unanimous 'aw' from the TV audience. "Mommy?" asked Jack, suddenly.

She turned to him. "You're crying again," he said. "Why?"

"Am I?" she asked, reaching a hand up to her face and wiping away tears. "I'm sorry, baby, I didn't notice. It's nothing…just Mommy being silly."

He broke the remaining cheeseburger in half and handed it to her. "Will that make things better?" he asked, hopefully.

She smiled at him. "No, you keep that, Jack," she said, patting his head. "Mommy will be fine in a minute."

"Just smile, Mommy," he said. "That'll make everything better, remember? All the bad feelings will go away if you smile."

She did smile at this, kissing him gently. "That's right, baby," she whispered, unable to stop the tears trailing down her face. "That's right."


	9. Chapter 9

**Ten Years Later**

"Fantastic party, as usual, Mr. Wayne. Nobody can throw a Christmas do like you can."

"Well, it's my incredible wife you have to thank. She does all the planning, don't you, Martha?"

"I don't know what you'd do without me, Thomas," replied Martha Wayne, beaming at her husband.

He beamed back and kissed her. "Alfred, bring some more champagne, would you?" he called to his butler. "I want to make a toast. Martha, where's Bruce?"

"I think he's run off to his room. Not much for him to do at a party like this, with just your employees and their families, and no one his age. No child likes spending too much time in the adult world."

"I envy him the ability to escape," replied Thomas, grinning, and the group around him laughed. "But I'd like him to be here for the toast. Would you go get him, Martha – I think everyone's here…"

He trailed off as the door to the ballroom opened suddenly and a family entered. They were shabbily dressed compared to the rest of the guests – the woman was wearing a dress which was several seasons out of fashion. The man had on a ragged, worn suit which had clearly been repaired many times. And their son, a boy of about fifteen years, was wearing clothing that would better fit someone about five years younger.

They were very aware of their out-of-placeness – the man looked around at the staring faces defiantly, but the woman and the boy both kept their eyes fixed on the ground. Until the woman looked up and met Thomas's eyes. He stared back at her for a moment, and then beamed.

"Mary Napier!" he exclaimed, striding forward to shake her hand. "So glad you could make it! Martha, this is Mary, she's a secretary at Wayne Enterprises."

"How do you do, Mrs. Napier?" asked Martha Wayne, smiling kindly at her. "Won't you introduce me to your charming family?"

Mary nodded, and said in a quiet voice. "This is my husband Joseph, and our son, Jack. Say hello, Jack."

"Hello," whispered Jack, keeping his eyes glued to the ground.

"It's very nice to meet you, Jack," said Martha, taking his hand to shake it. He looked up at her in surprise, and Martha's eyes widened in shock when she saw a large black eye on the boy's face, along with several cuts and bruises.

"Goodness, Jack, are you all right?" she asked tenderly, kneeling down and reaching out to examine his cuts.

He flinched as she touched him and started back, fear and suspicion in his eyes. "What happened to your face?" she asked.

Jack didn't respond. He just stared at the floor. His father suddenly struck him across the back of the head. "Mrs. Wayne asked you a question, boy! Tell her what happened to your face!"

"I tripped and…fell down the stairs," Jack whispered, still staring intently at the ground.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" demanded his father. "Boy needs to be more careful, don't you, boy?"

"Yes," whispered Jack, staring at the ground in fury.

"Yes, what?" snapped his father, striking the back of his head again.

"Yes, sir," hissed Jack.

"It's…good to finally meet you, Mr. Napier, after all these years," said Thomas, with a forced smile, shaking his hand. "Mary's told me so much about you."

"Has she?" he asked, smiling coldly at him. "Well, that's good to hear. I hope I've lived up to the expectation."

"I'm so glad you could come this year, Mary," said Thomas, turning to her. "I ask you every year without fail, and every year you turn me down. What made you change your mind?"

"I…uh…thought it might be nice for Jack to…to…uh…meet your son," stammered Mary. The look in her eyes as she gazed at Thomas was slightly desperate and pleading.

"Bruce? That's a great idea! He'll be so relieved to have someone closer to his own age to play with," said Thomas. "Martha, why don't you take Jack to Bruce's room?"

"Come with me, Jack," said Martha, taking his hand again and leading him from the ballroom into the corridors of Wayne Manor. Jack snatched occasional quick glances at the richness and splendor of the place, but mostly kept his eyes fixed on the ground, intense fury and hatred still shining through them.

Martha knocked on her son's door. "Bruce? Are you in there?"

"Yeah, c'mon in, Mommy," said a voice.

Martha opened the door to see her eight-year-old son seated cross-legged on the floor, playing with a toy castle. "I had a feeling I'd find you hiding away in here," said Martha, beaming at her son. "Guess the party was pretty boring, huh?"

Bruce shrugged. "It was fine. Just not as fun as my toys," he said, picking up two knight figures and making them fight.

"Well, your father is going to want you to be there when he makes his toast, but for now I'd like you to meet someone," said Martha, pulling Jack into the room. "Bruce, this is Jack Napier. He's the son of one of your father's employees, but I think he's pretty bored by the party too. I thought it might be nice for you to play together."

Bruce and Jack studied each other, and then Bruce shrugged. "Ok."

Martha smiled. "I'll see you in a bit, Jack," she said, pressing his hand. "Play nice, Bruce."

She shut the door, leaving them alone. "Why are you dressed like that?" asked Bruce, frankly.

"Like what?" asked Jack.

"In clothes that are old, and too small for you," said Bruce.

Jack shrugged. "Ain't got any other nice clothes."

"Huh. You need to get a new butler," said Bruce, surprised. "Alfred always makes sure my clothes fit and look nice."

"I ain't got a butler," growled Jack.

Bruce stared at him, a mixture of confused and stunned. "But…who gets you dressed, and makes you breakfast, and cleans the house, and looks after you?"

"Nobody," retorted Jack, sitting down on the bed. "Gotta do all that myself."

"But you're just a kid," said Bruce, surprised.

"Yeah. So?" growled Jack.

Bruce didn't have any answer to that. "What happened to your face?" he asked, trying a different route of questioning.

"My old man punched me," he retorted. "Cause I mouthed off to him."

"Who's your old man?" asked Bruce, puzzled.

"My Dad," he retorted.

"Why would your Dad hit you?" asked Bruce, horrified.

"Because he hates me," growled Jack. "And I hate him."

"How you can you hate your Dad?" gasped Bruce. "My Dad's the best."

"Lucky you!" snapped Jack, bending down to pick up one of the toy figures in the castle, a jester. He glared at it in hatred, as he glared at everything.

"You can have some of my clothes if you wanna," said Bruce. "They probably won't fit either, but at least they're nice. Or we can play dress-up!" he said hopefully, rushing over to a large chest in the corner. He opened it and took out a black mask and cape. "C'mon, find a costume!"

Jack sighed, standing up and coming over to him. As Bruce put on the cape and mask, Jack pulled out a large, purple jacket and green wig.

"I'm Zorro," said Bruce, matter-of-factly, turning to face him with a fake sword in his hand. "I'm gonna be a hero just like him when I grow up. Who are you supposed to be?"

Jack shrugged. "Just a guy, I guess."

"You look like a clown," said Bruce. "You can be Clownman."

"Great name," muttered Jack, sarcastically.

"Yeah, it is," agreed Bruce, who hadn't detected the sarcasm. "So let's fight."

"I'm a lot older than you, kid," retorted Jack. "I might hurt you."

"No, you won't," said Bruce, firmly. "I'm a good fighter. Come on."

He pointed the sword at Jack. "This is a stupid game," said Jack. "I ain't gonna play it."

"Come on!" repeated Bruce, stamping his foot. "You gotta play it! You gotta!"

"I got enough fighting at home without pretending to fight now, all right?" snapped Jack. "I'm sick of it!"

"You're chicken," retorted Bruce. "Afraid I'll beat you. Chicken!"

He stabbed the sword at him, and it hit Jack in the face. Jack's eyes blazed, and he suddenly punched Bruce, a harsh blow that knocked him to the ground. Jack grabbed the sword away and snapped it in two, throwing the broken pieces at Bruce. "You don't even know what real fighting is, Rich Boy!" he shouted. "You don't know what it's like to have to fight everyone every single day of your life! It ain't no game! And for me the violence ain't pretend! I just beat you, kid, but trust me, it's light compared to a real beating, the kind my old man gives me whenever he gets drunk, which is every goddamn night!"

Bruce burst into tears. "I'm telling Mommy!" he shouted, standing up and racing from the room.

He headed for the ballroom, but then realized all his parents' friends would be there too. He didn't want them thinking he was a crybaby, and so he went to the bathroom first to make sure he wiped away all the tears. Then he headed for the ballroom, but passed his father's study on the way. He heard the voice of a man and woman inside, and thought it might be his mother, so he slowly pushed open the door a crack. But it wasn't his mother talking to his father. It was a woman he didn't recognize, very pretty, but with such sadness in her eyes. Bruce shrugged, and then hurried away to find his mother.

"So what are you really doing here, Mary?" asked Thomas Wayne, gently. "It can't be just for Jack to meet Bruce."

"Why not? Shouldn't he?" whispered Mary, gazing at Thomas.

Thomas didn't respond, sipping his drink. "He…doesn't know, does he?" asked Thomas, quietly.

"Who, Jack? No."

"Not Jack," murmured Thomas, turning to face her. "Your husband."

Mary shut her eyes. "I…I don't know," she whispered. "Sometimes I think he does. I think he must. I think that's why he treats Jack so horribly. It breaks my heart to see it, but there's nothing I can do. I can't stop him…"

"Leave him," interrupted Thomas. "Divorce him."

"I can't," she whispered. "It's not that simple. I don't have anyplace else to go, or anyone else to go to."

"The police. There are charities for…"

"Spare me your charities for once, Thomas," snapped Mary, sinking into a chair. "Anyway, isn't that more _her _thing?"

"Leave her out of this," whispered Thomas. "She doesn't know anything about it, and I intend to keep it that way. That's what you wanted, after all, isn't it?"

"That's what I wanted," she agreed. "But it was a long time ago, and I was young and stupid and scared, and what I wanted wasn't necessarily what was right…"

She trailed off, looking around. "If things had been different…I guess this all could have been mine."

"But things aren't different, Mary," said Thomas, gently. "So why drag all this up again now?"

She shook her head. "I don't know," she whispered. "I don't know. I'm just desperate, and I didn't know who else to turn to. I'm…I'm just so unhappy, Thomas. Every single day of my life. I can't take much more of it. I feel like I'll go crazy or kill myself or…"

She trailed off, tears sliding down her face. "Don't you say anything like that," whispered Thomas, kneeling down beside her and taking her hand. "Don't even consider that for a moment."

"Thomas, if you knew anything about my life, you wouldn't think it was such a crazy idea," she whispered. "But I'm completely powerless to do anything about it. If I…came forward with the truth, it would ruin you. Your life, your marriage, your happiness. And I can't do that to you. But I can't continue on like this."

She looked at him. "Joseph is going to kill either me or Jack someday," she whispered. "When he drinks, he gets so violent, and you can't stop him…"

"_I _can stop him," said Thomas. "I'll report him to the police."

"No, you can't do that," she whispered, tearing up. "If they take him away, he'll tell them about Jack. Even if he doesn't know for sure, he won't hesitate to voice his suspicions to the papers, and then they'll start investigating the story, and you. I can't ruin you, Thomas."

"And I can't continue to let you suffer married to that beast," retorted Thomas. "I would much rather the world knew the truth."

Mary smiled sadly. "Would you?" she whispered. "You would rather everyone in this city knew that its benefactor, Thomas Wayne, respectable doctor, businessman, and humanitarian, had an affair with his married secretary fifteen years ago? Would you like them all to know that they had a lovechild, a child which the secretary claimed was her husband's, to prevent a scandal and their own public disgrace? But public disgrace would be a welcome relief now from the private misery of my life. The constant abuse and humiliation…"

She buried her face in her hands again, sobbing. "Mary, let me help you," whispered Thomas. "Let me put him away. I'm not ashamed of the truth – we didn't do anything wrong in loving each other. Martha will understand, and she'll help you and the boy find your feet again…"

"The law says we did do something wrong in loving each other," whispered Mary. "Society says we did too. I don't think the world is as kind and forgiving as you believe, Thomas. It hasn't been in my experience anyway."

"Do you think we were wrong?" whispered Thomas. "Do you regret it?"

"Regret?" she whispered, gazing at him. "The memory of our love is the only thing that makes me smile anymore."

Thomas tenderly brought his lips towards her and kissed her. She moaned a little in protest but returned the kiss, the passion quickly increasing on both sides.

"Thomas, no!" she gasped, drawing away suddenly. "No, no…we can't do this again! You're married now, and happy. You love her…"

"I do love her," he murmured. "But I've never forgotten what we shared, Mary. I have never regretted it. And I would never cheat on Martha, but you cannot ask me to stand idly by and see the woman I loved, the woman I still care for very deeply, mistreated and abused by that brute of a man. I won't let it happen. Not to her, or…my son."

"Your son," she whispered. "And he's so like you, you know, in so many ways."

"Let me tell Martha," he murmured. "She'll understand. I'll insist that you come stay here, with Jack."

"And wouldn't your high society crowd have a field day with that?" she murmured. "Thomas Wayne living with his wife and mistress, letting his bastard son hang around his real son…"

"I don't care what they think, Mary!" he shouted.

"You will," she whispered. "The world's so goddamn cruel, Thomas. It would do its best to crush you, and break you apart, and destroy you. It would pick at you every second of every day, chipping away at you. And in the end, it would win. You would be a social outcast. For a man in your position, that's career suicide. It would destroy your marriage and your life. You would lose everything you've worked so hard to build. I couldn't be responsible for that."

"Let me do something, Mary!" he cried. "I have to! Please!"

She was silent. "Just promise me if…if something happens to me, you'll look after Jack. He needs his father, his real father. Even if he never knows that's who you are, he needs to know someone is looking after him. That someone cares about him, and loves him…"

"Mary, nothing is going to happen to you…"

"You don't know him, Thomas!" she cried. "He's a dangerous man!"

"She's right, Mr. Wayne," whispered a voice from the doorway. "I _am _a dangerous man."

They both whirled around to see Joseph Napier pushing open the door. He lit a cigar, studying them with cold eyes and a terrible smile. "Joseph, how long have you…" began Mary.

"Long enough," he interrupted. "But I didn't really need to have it confirmed. I always knew the kid was a bastard, because I always knew my wife was a slut."

"Don't you dare talk that way about her!" hissed Thomas.

"Oh, I really wouldn't tell me what to do, Mr. Wayne," murmured Joseph, grinning. "You don't know what I can do to you."

"You think I'm scared of some pathetic bully like you?" demanded Thomas.

"I think you should be, if only for the sake of your wife and son," he replied, smiling. "Guy like me has got connections, Mr. Wayne. And you wouldn't want anything to happen to your precious family, would you? Your precious, legitimate family."

"You are not going to hurt Mary and Jack anymore," snapped Thomas.

"I'm gonna do what I wanna with my property," he retorted, exhaling a cloud of smoke. "And until you come forward to claim the boy, he's my property. Got my name as father on his birth certificate and everything. And you'll never come forward to claim the boy, will you? Mary's right – you have no idea what kinda damage it would do to your reputation. How ostracized your whole family will be. It will make life very difficult for both your sons."

"Not as difficult as continuing to live with a monster!" hissed Thomas.

Joseph blew another cloud of smoke out. "I wouldn't go around pointing fingers, Mr. Wayne," he murmured. "Having an affair with a married woman and all…"

"You expect her to feel guilty for cheating on a brute like you?" he demanded. "The poor woman was desperate for any shred of sympathy and compassion and love…"

"And you took advantage of that, didn't you?" interrupted Joseph. "You thought a pathetic little victim like that would make an easy lay. Turns out you were right."

"You know nothing about me," hissed Thomas.

"No, Mr. Wayne, it's you who knows nothing about me," retorted Joseph. "Or anything. You sit here in your fancy palace hosting parties and giving to charity, but you have no idea what the real world is like. You're a hypocrite, pretending to care about people, but running a company that routinely lays off its employees, exploits its workers, and ruthlessly destroys any competition. You're just like me, only you're afraid to see it, so you dress it all up. But wearing a fancy mask don't make you better than me. At least I ain't a coward."

"You are the most horrible of men," retorted Thomas. "And I will make you sorry for what you've done to Mary and my son."

Joseph grinned. "Oh no, Mr. Wayne," he murmured. "Of the two of us, you're the one who's gonna be sorry."

He headed for the door. "C'mon, slut, we're leaving. Let's get the little bastard and go."

Mary was crying, but made to follow him. Thomas caught her arm. "Don't," he said, firmly. "Don't you dare."

"Does it look like I have a choice?" she whispered.

She pulled her arm away and followed him back to the ballroom. "Sorry to trouble you, Mrs. Wayne, but could you kindly fetch my son?" asked Joseph of Martha, smiling. "We're leaving."

"So soon?" said Martha, frowning. "Are you sure you can't stay?"

"Oh no, we have to be getting on," said Joseph. "Can't take any more advantage of your husband's hospitality. You've taken enough of that, haven't you, dear?" he asked, sneering at Mary.

Mary nodded, keeping her eyes fixed on the floor and spilling tears. Martha left to go fetch Jack, and Joseph helped himself to another glass of champagne while he waited, smashing the glass on the floor when he was done.

"Aw, sorry for the mess, Mr. Wayne, but you'll find people to clean it up for you, won't you?" asked Joseph, grinning at Thomas. "Just like I will. Two of a kind, you and me, Mr. Wayne. Same taste in women and everything."

"Joseph, don't…" whispered Mary.

"You shut your mouth, you little whore!" he shouted, striking her suddenly across the face.

"Don't you hit her!" shouted Jack, entering the room at that moment and rushing over to his mother. Joseph shoved him away, and when he fought back, cracked his fist across his nose, breaking it. Jack cried out, falling to his knees and cupping his nose as the blood ran between his fingers.

"Don't you ever…EVER…raise a hand to me again, you little bastard!" hissed Joseph. "Or I'll break every bone in your worthless body, so help me! What's the matter, folks?" he asked, looking around at the shocked, terrified faces of the social elite. "Taste of reality too much for you? Well, stop pretending you're so much better than me. You ain't."

He seized Jack's arm and dragged him toward the door. "C'mon, slut!" he shouted. Mary obediently followed him, sobbing. She took one last look at Thomas and then shut the door.

Everyone stared in shocked silence for a moment. And then Thomas murmured, quietly, "Phone the police, Alfred."


	10. Chapter 10

Joseph Napier was an utterly contemptible excuse for a human being. But like all utterly contemptible excuses for human beings, he hadn't started out that way. His life had never been ideal – he was raised single-handedly by an abusive, alcoholic father, who had taught him that the only way to be respected was to make people afraid of him. It was a lesson young Joseph had learned well, and one of his first jobs, apart from the early morning paper runs he had done to bring in cash as a child, was as a heavy for a "security company" – using threats and violence to get people to pay up. He had enjoyed that job, and the money it provided. And since, in his mind, he had achieved career success, the next step was personal success. He intended to find himself a wife, but he didn't want to use anything like manners and charm to get him one.

One of his fellow workers at the security company was constantly complaining about his daughter, an ungrateful little brat, in his own words, but one who had been well trained from an early age in the duties of a wife toward her home. He had visited a few times to see the girl before he bought her, to make sure he was getting his money's worth. She had a pretty face, and did what she was told, which was good enough for him. He was only interested in a wife who would take care of the household chores while he was away at work, and have dinner on the table when he returned home, and be ready to attend to any husbandly needs he might have later that evening. He had made a deal with the girl's father, paid a fair price, and married her.

He had thought at the time that it was a pretty good bargain. He hadn't realized how much trouble the girl would end up being, how much she would cry all the time, how she would try to defy him and disobey him, so he would have to expend the effort beating her into submission. She did do all her chores, she did have meals ready on time, and she did lie back and submit to him quietly when he wanted to claim his husbandly rights. But little things about her annoyed him. He could never put his finger exactly on what, but everytime he saw her, he felt like being violent toward her. These desires only increased when the security company was shut down by the police, and he was suddenly out of a job, with no money, no savings, and a wife depending on him. So he turned to what many a man in his time had turned to before, including his own father: alcohol.

If Joseph Napier had ever been in the habit of self-analysis, or if he had ever decided to go see a psychiatrist, he might have discovered that his anger and violence toward his wife was actually misplaced aggression towards himself. That the damage his father had done as a child had given him a permanent inferiority complex, which made him use violence and aggression as a tool to try to feel superior to other people. The thing that annoyed him about his wife was that she was too good for him, and secretly he knew it. She put up with every trial and tribulation with patience and grace, and it irritated him how bad that made him look, when the same trials and tribulations had turned him into the miserable wreck of a man he was today. He hated her for showing off, and being better than him, although his wife had never intended to do anything of the kind. But Joseph was a very selfish man, and saw everything everyone in his life did as a slight against himself.

When Mary had got the job at Wayne Enterprises, and began spending a lot of time away from home, Joseph was relieved at first. It was easier for him not having to deal with her patience and grace on a daily basis to make himself feel worse. But his relief gradually turned to jealousy and suspicion – Mary was _his _wife, and her place was in _his _home. She was working to spite him, to prove to him that she didn't need him, that she could support herself. So he treated her even worse, trying to beat her back into submission, and make her grateful for her place. He was secretly terrified when she began spending time away at conferences with Mr. Wayne – his own lack of self-worth made him paranoid that she was having an affair with him. And so he demeaned and abused her, telling her that no decent man would want her, that she was worthless and useless, and beat her so that no man would think she was pretty.

And things only grew worse when she told him she was pregnant. Already paranoid about her affair, he wasn't even sure the child was his, and didn't want it even if it was. He had tried to convince her, using threats and violence, to give up the baby, but she refused to bow to his wishes this time, and that made him even more desperate and panicked. If he lost his power over her, he'd have nothing left. Or so he thought. Once the child arrived, and he saw how tender and affectionate Mary was with it, he knew he had another road to power over her. And another person to use his power against, to make himself feel better.

He made life a living hell for both of them. But still Mary never complained, and always did her best to pretend to be happy and strong, for the kid's sake. It made him furious. When the kid was old enough, in his opinion, he sent him off to make himself useful, working eight hours a day in a factory, despite his mother's protests. When Jack and Mary came home from work every day, Joseph would take their money from them and keep it safe for himself. The kid was starting to cave – he could see the rage and hatred growing in him every day. But still Mary tried to keep the peace, telling her son to be good, and smile. Despite this, Joseph and Jack had come to blows a couple times, while Mary had tried to separate them, screaming and sobbing until Jack relented, and let Joseph beat him too into submission for her sake.

And then had come the party, where Joseph had found out the truth that he had always suspected. It was confirmation that he was right, that everything he had always believed was right, and that his actions had always been just. He knew rich boy Wayne wouldn't stand idly by and let his son suffer anymore, so Joseph had moved fast. They had returned home from the party, Joseph had ordered them all to pack their things, and they relocated to a different part of town. It was still poor and run-down, but so were many areas of Gotham, and it would take Wayne and the police ages to find them. Joseph wasn't worried. Now that he knew the kid wasn't his, he intended to treat him even worse than usual. It was the bastard son of his wife and some rich snob. It deserved pain.

And he wanted revenge. On the kid, on Mary, on Wayne, on everyone. On the world, for making him into the man he was today. But it wasn't the world's fault, not really – it never is, when people blame the world. Joseph had squandered every chance and opportunity ever given him, and instead taken his failure out on everyone around him. No one had made him into that man but him. But Joseph was too afraid to blame himself for his own failure. He was a coward, although he would never admit it.

Joseph was thinking all these thoughts as he drained the beer from his glass, his sullen, angry eyes fixated on the bar in front of him. "Rough night, Joseph?" asked a man, taking a seat next to him.

Joseph recognized him as a frequent drinking companion of his, a man who could be termed in the loosest sense, his friend. He nodded. "Yeah. Real rough night."

"Can I buy you another?" asked the man, gesturing the bartender over.

"Thanks. You're a pal," muttered Joseph.

"You wanna talk about it, or you wanna be left alone?" asked the man, handing Joseph a drink and taking one for himself.

Joseph sighed, taking a sip from the beer. "I wouldn't talk about it to anyone else," he muttered. "But you've always been there for me, and you know a lot of it." He took another swig from his glass. "You know my kid?"

"Yeah. Ungrateful little brat who gives you lip and complains about having to do an honest job," retorted the man. "Stupid bastard."

"Yeah, that's the size of it," muttered Joseph. "I found out a few days ago that…he ain't mine. My slut of a wife…slept with another guy. After all I've done for her, given her a nice home, and a roof over her head, and she ain't satisfied with any of that. She slept with her boss. And it's his kid. I always suspected…the weekends away, and the long nights at work, but I never had it confirmed…until now."

The man whistled. "Boy, Joseph, that's rough," he muttered. "I'm real sorry for ya. You always said she was a tramp and a whore, but I never thought she'd let another guy knock her up. You deserve better, you know you do."

"I know," muttered Joseph. "But what am I gonna do about it? Right now I'm just…so angry," he hissed, tightening his grip on the glass. "I feel like I could kill the slut, and her bastard, and her goddamn boss too."

"What's stopping you?" asked the man, taking a swig from his glass.

"The law, for one," retorted Joseph.

The man snorted. "Law," he repeated, contemptuously. "The law ain't for men like us, Joseph. It's for weak, lesser men who don't have the balls to take the law into their own hands. Guys like you and me, Joseph, we know what's right. We don't need some goddamn law telling us what to do."

"No, I…I guess not," said Joseph, slowly. He nodded. "It would be a piece of cake to off the bitch and the bastard. But the boss…that's something else. He'll be hard to get to."

"Why? Who is he?" asked the man.

Joseph took another long drink. "Thomas Wayne," he muttered.

"Wayne?" repeated the man. "Like Wayne Enterprises?"

"Yeah. That's him," retorted Joseph.

The man whistled. "Your slut's got expensive taste, Joseph, I'll say that for you," he said. He drank thoughtfully. "But I reckon not even Thomas Wayne is untouchable."

"He is to me," muttered Joseph. "He knows me now…he'd recognize me…unless I could hire someone to off him or something…"

The man drank again. "How much would you pay this someone?" he asked, casually.

Joseph felt in his pockets. "That's the other problem," he muttered. "Money's tight again. Mary said the heating bill's gone up, but I think she's hiding it away to buy something for herself, the selfish bitch."

"Well, you might not have to pay in money," continued the man. "If you had some other valuable property to trade, for instance. What about this wife of yours? She a looker?"

Joseph shrugged. "Yeah, she looks fine. Got Thomas Wayne's seal of approval and everything. I don't even wanna think about…doing her anymore. Not when I know he's been there."

The man shook his head. "Joseph, I hate to hear a man so defeatist," he said. "She's your wife, for Christ's sake. Your property. You need to go back there and claim her, hard, and make sure she never thinks about spreading her legs for another guy but you again. You…or a guy you might have given permission to."

Joseph looked at him. "You saying you wanna sleep with my wife?"

"I'm saying that would be a fair price for me," retorted the man.

"A fair price for what?" asked Joseph.

The man took another drink. "For killing Thomas Wayne," he murmured. "Hell, I'll throw his wife into the deal as well."

"What about their little brat?" muttered Joseph.

The man laughed. "Joseph, your wife may be good, but no woman is worth the lives of three people. I'll kill two for her, though. You're lucky you got a wife who's worth so much. Thomas and Martha Wayne are rich targets. Any hitman would charge an arm and a leg for 'em. You're lucky you got a friend like me who's satisfied with just your wife."

Joseph nodded slowly. "Yeah. Guess I am."

He smiled, extending his hand. "Mr. Joe Chill, you got yourself a deal."


	11. Chapter 11

"It's looking a lot better, sweetheart," whispered Mary, smiling tenderly at her son Jack as she studied his nose. "You can barely tell it's broken. And it doesn't make you any less handsome."

Jack didn't look at her. He kept his eyes glued to the floor in fury. "I'm going to kill him, Mom," he whispered.

"Sweetheart, you shouldn't joke about things like that…" she began.

"I'm not joking," he interrupted, looking up at her sincerely. "I've never been more serious about anything in my life."

"Jack, I know my baby boy," she murmured, stroking his cheek. "I know you could never kill someone. You're a good boy, Jack..."

"I'm sick of being a good boy, Mom," muttered Jack, shoving her hand away. "It's only got you and me more pain. I'm gonna stand up to the creep when he gets home and tell him if he doesn't leave us alone, I'm gonna kill him."

"Baby, you can't…you can't threaten people with violence," she whispered. "That would make you a bully just like him, don't you understand? I don't want my precious baby turning into a monster like he is."

"So what am I supposed to do, Mom?" demanded Jack. "Just suffer in silence, and try to smile while he beats you?! That's crazy!"

"Baby, his…his punishment will come," whispered Mary. "I know it…"

"When?" demanded Jack. "Tell me when, Mom! Is there some God up there who's just gonna strike him down suddenly?! Don't make me laugh."

"Sweetheart, listen to me," she whispered, taking his face in her hands. "I know…life can be horrible sometimes, but we can't allow it to make _us _horrible. People can't always be happy or free of pain, but we can always be good, no matter what life does to us. We have to do what's right, no matter what. And it's not right to fight violence with violence. You know that, baby. But sometimes if you just smile…"

"Everything will feel better," muttered Jack, shoving her away again. "That's not true, Mom, and you know it isn't! You've put up with that monster for far too long, and where's your reward for being good about it?!"

"I…I have my reward, Jack," she whispered. "I have you."

He snorted. "Yeah, some reward," he muttered, running his fingers through his hair. "I'm not like you, Mom. I try to be patient and good, but…but I think, no matter how I try to control it…I'm too much like my father."

She gazed at him. "Yes, you…you are, baby," she whispered. She took his hands. "Jack, there's something I…have to tell you. About your father…"

"I don't wanna hear anything you have to say to try to defend him!" snapped Jack.

"No, I'm not…just listen to me, baby, please…" she whispered. "You might think me a very…selfish woman, but I have to tell you the truth…"

The door to the apartment was thrown open suddenly. "Jack, shouldn't you be at work?" said Joseph Napier, entering the room, followed by another man Jack had never seen before.

"I thought I'd stay home and take care of my mother today," growled Jack.

"We'll do that," said Joseph casually. "I'm her husband, and that's my job, after all. Why don't you go off to yours, Jack, so you can make some money for me and I can continue to let you live under my roof?"

"If you think I'm going to leave her alone with you for one moment…" began Jack.

"Jack, just go," whispered Mary. "Please don't fight him. I don't wanna see you hurt again."

Her gaze shifted between Joseph and the stranger, and her body shook in fear. But her voice was firm as she spoke to her son. "We'll…we'll have a little talk when you get home tonight," she murmured, squeezing his hand. "There's something I need to tell you."

"Mom, I won't leave you alone with him…" began Jack.

"I'll be fine, baby," she whispered, forcing a smile. "Please trust me."

Jack nodded slowly. "Good boy," she whispered, kissing him. "That's my good boy. I'll see you tonight."

Jack headed for the door, glancing back at her, and Joseph, and the stranger. The stranger grinned.

"Don't you worry, son," he said. "We'll take real good care of your Mommy."

His mocking laughter followed Jack outside as he shut the door. It was the last memory he would have of his mother alive.

When he returned home later that night, the apartment was in total darkness. "Mom?" he called, turning on the lights. "Mom? Where…"

He froze as he saw a small puddle of red liquid on the floor in front of him. There was a trail of it coming from under the door to the bedroom, and Jack's breath caught in his throat as he followed it, knowing what he would find at the end of the trail but not daring to believe it. His hand shook as he placed it on the handle to the bedroom door. Then he took a deep breath and threw it open.

His mother was lying naked on the bed, the sheets around her stained crimson from the blood that poured from where her throat had been cut. She was clutching something tightly in her hand over her heart, and the look on her face was peaceful, despite the bruises that marred her body. She had clearly died thinking of something that made her happy, for a small smile was on her lips.

Jack stared at the corpse, his mind blank. He couldn't comprehend what he was seeing. "M…mom?" he stammered, tears filling his eyes. "Mom, please…please wake up," he whispered, coming closer to shake her. Her skin was cold and lifeless.

Jack let out a sob, reeling back from the body. But an instant later, the opposite instinct seized him. "Mommy!" he sobbed, throwing himself on top of her body and cradling it gently. "Mommy…oh God…why…why would they…"

"Because your mother was a liar, and a whore," muttered a voice from the doorway. Jack looked up to see Joseph entering the room and shutting the door behind him. "And now it's your turn, you little bastard," he whispered, smiling at him as he fingered a knife.

Jack gently lay his mother's body down, covering her up, and then turned to face Joseph. "I will kill you for this," he hissed, tears in his eyes.

Joseph laughed. "You don't have the guts, kid," he retorted. "Anyway, I'm the one holding the knife."

"For now," agreed Jack. He was strangely calm and resolute, despite the circumstances. It all seemed perfectly logical and straightforward at this point. A man was threatening him with a knife, and he was going to kill this man. It was as simple as that.

Joseph lunged forward, but Jack was quicker than him, and leapt out of the way. Joseph tripped, and Jack kicked at him, knocking him to the ground. He dropped the knife, and Jack had seized it in an instant. Joseph rolled over to see Jack pointing the blade at him, a big smile on his face.

"Now…Jack…" he stammered, terrified at the slightly crazed look in his eyes. "Listen to me…"

Jack laughed suddenly. "Listen to you?" he repeated. "Why should I listen to you? I listened to Mommy when she said not to hurt you, and now Mommy is dead! And you killed her! And you expect me to listen to you?!"

"If…if you kill me, Jack, you'll never find out the secret…" began Joseph.

"Oh, I know the secret," whispered Jack, grinning. "Mommy told me the secret years ago. Why don't you say it with me?"

Jack took the knife and slowly slashed it across Joseph's cheeks, laughing at the feeling of joy that shot through him as the metal cut flesh, and at the screams of pain. "A smile makes everything better!" whispered Jack in Joseph's ear.

And then Jack began plunging the knife repeatedly into Joseph, anywhere and everywhere, laughing as he did so, until the screaming stopped. Jack dropped the knife, turning back to his mother's body, and his face fell again.

"That's…that's right, isn't it, Mommy?" he whispered, coming over to stroke her hair back. "A smile makes everything better. You're…you're dead, but you're still smiling…so it's all better, see?"

He traced her smile around her lips, and then noticed that she was holding something in her hand. He tried to open her fingers, but they were clenched tightly in rigor mortis, so he gave up.

"I'm…sorry I was too late this time, Mommy," he whispered. "I'll never be too late to kill anyone ever again. You didn't know, did you, how good it can be to kill a person? How much good can come from one man's death? If I had killed him a long time ago, you would still be alive, so it can't be a bad thing, you see."

He smiled. "Isn't it funny, Mommy, that something so bad can be so good for everyone? Doesn't it make you wanna laugh?"

He started laughing hysterically, clutching her body tightly against him.

He suddenly heard the sounds of police sirens not far off. "Oh Mommy, they're coming to take you away from me," he murmured. "But don't be afraid. I won't ever forget the things you've taught me. Still, I'd better leave before they arrive. They'll want to punish me for killing Daddy, and I won't be punished for that. Not when it was so good."

He kissed her forehead. "Goodbye, Mommy. I love you."

And by the time the police kicked open the front door to the apartment, Jack had already climbed out the bedroom window and disappeared into the streets of Gotham.


	12. Chapter 12

Thomas Wayne sat alone in his study, his head bowed over his desk as he looked at two photographs. One was of Mary Napier's body, which the coroner had asked him to identify, as her employer. The other was of a small object that had been found clutched in her hand, and which had taken a lot of effort to retrieve: a gold necklace with a diamond glass slipper charm.

There were tears in Thomas's eyes as he looked at the pictures, and he hid them suddenly as a knock came on his door. "Come in," he said, wiping his eyes.

His wife Martha entered, carrying a tray. "Alfred thought you might want some tea," she said, placing it down on his desk. She kissed his forehead, stroking his hair back from his face. "Everything all right?"

He shook his head. "No, Martha," he whispered, embracing her gently. "A woman is dead, and it's all my fault."

"How is it your fault, Thomas?" she asked. "You did the best you could – you called the police immediately…"

"I should have called them years ago!" he interrupted, suddenly furious. "I should have called them the moment I first saw…God dammit, I always knew he would do this to her if I didn't interfere! I should have listened to my instincts and put him away, or killed him, or…"

"Thomas, what's gotten into you?" asked Martha, surprised at his fury. "I agree it's very sad that this poor woman is dead, but you mustn't take it so personally. There was nothing you could have done."

"Oh Martha, you don't know the whole story," he whispered. "But I suppose you can know it now. I…promised her I wouldn't tell anyone, but she's…gone now. And the boy…we have to find the boy, Martha."

"The police are doing all they can, Thomas," said Martha, soothingly. "I'm sure they'll find Jack soon."

"He seems to have disappeared off the face of the earth. There's no trace, but…they have to find him," he whispered. "They have to." He took her hand, looking up into her eyes. "He's my son."

Martha gazed back at him in shock, and then sat down. "I think you'd better start from the beginning, Thomas," she murmured.

And so he did. He poured out the entire story. Martha listened, not saying a word. "I could have saved her," whispered Thomas at last. "It's my fault she's dead. I'll have to carry that guilt for the rest of my life."

Martha said nothing, stroking his hair back. "Why didn't you tell me, Thomas?" she whispered.

"I promised her I wouldn't tell anyone," murmured Thomas. "I couldn't break that promise. But I should have," he said, firmly. "I should have. If I had, she might be alive, and Jack might be here, safe with his family…"

Martha shushed him, and they sat in silence. "Should we tell Bruce?" she asked gently.

"I…I don't know," stammered Thomas. "Not until we find Jack anyway – it would be too difficult to explain otherwise. You have a brother, Bruce, but he's out on the streets of Gotham somewhere…"

He trailed off. "Do you think…people know when they're related?" asked Martha, quietly. "Do you think they're…drawn to each other, I mean? That their destinies are intertwined? That they just know somehow…without being told?"

"Are you saying that you think Jack will just magically show up here because he knows I'm his father?" asked Thomas. "No, I really don't think so, Martha."

He sighed, looking out the window. "It doesn't matter. Bruce will probably never see him again, and neither will we."

"You mustn't give up hope, Thomas," whispered Martha. "They're brothers. They must find each other some day."

"I wish I had your confidence," he sighed. He shook his head to clear his thoughts. "Come on, darling, let's forget about all this for now," he said, taking her hand and helping her up. "Bruce will kill us if we make him late for his Zorro picture again."

"He could quote the whole thing at us anyway, Thomas," she replied, smiling. She kissed him. "Cheer up. Things will seem better after a night at the movies."

"I'm sure you're right, my darling," said Thomas, leading her out of the room and shutting the door behind him.


	13. Chapter 13

**Epilogue**

Officer James Gordon, of the Gotham City Police Department, exited the door of the station and lit a cigar, trying to ignore the rain beating down on him. The night was just beginning, and it was going to be a long one. Double homicide, and not just any homicide. Homicide of two of Gotham's wealthiest and most prominent citizens: Thomas and Martha Wayne.

The hardest part for him had been interviewing their son, the only eye-witness to the crime. The kid was only eight years old, but he had seen something that would scar a grown man. Talking to him, Gordon could see that something inside the child was changed forever. He had been forced to grow up in that one instant, when his parents' lives had been taken before his eyes. Gordon wondered if he would ever recover. He didn't think it was possible to really ever recover from something like that.

The door opened and Alfred escorted Bruce Wayne from the station, holding an umbrella over his head to keep the rain off. Not that Bruce could feel it, or anything. He was still numb from the shock. Alfred led him over to the waiting limousine and helped him inside, then shut the door. He took a moment to shake the rain off the umbrella before folding it again.

"Hey…uh…" said Gordon, wanting to say something to make things better, although he knew there wasn't anything that could do that. Alfred turned, his face imperturbable as ever.

"Sir?" he asked.

"If the kid…uh…remembers anything else that might help…feel free to call me personally," said Gordon. "James Gordon."

Alfred looked at him. "Thank you, sir, but I doubt Master Bruce will be wanting to speak about the incident anymore."

"Yeah, it's…tough to endure something like that," said Gordon, uselessly. "Especially for a kid…"

He trailed off. Alfred cleared his throat. "Will that be all, sir?"

"I just…I wish there was something I could say," said Gordon. "To him…and to you. I'm sure you must be pretty upset."

"Upset, sir?" repeated Alfred. "I hope you will be fortunate enough in your life to never know my feelings at this moment."

Gordon saw water on Alfred's face, but wasn't sure if it was tears or the rain. "They were my family, sir," continued Alfred. "And now both Master Bruce and I are…without family."

"Does he have anyone to take care of him?" asked Gordon, concerned. "Anyone at all?"

"I will be taking care of him, sir," retorted Alfred, firmly.

"I mean…family," said Gordon.

Alfred glanced into the limousine, where Bruce sat with his head bowed. "He is the last of the Waynes, sir," he murmured. "He doesn't have any family left in the world. Not a soul."

"God, that's tough," whispered Gordon. "Family's…always there for you, y'know? Always got your back. Never lets you feel…alone."

"Yes, sir," murmured Alfred. "That's what family does."

He nodded and climbed into the driver's seat, starting the car and heading off into the night.

If any of them could have looked into the future, they would have seen many more nights like that in Gotham, filled with death, and blood, and pain, but always a clown and a bat, together, never letting each other feel alone.

**The End**


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